


The Splendid Work of Bludgers

by sheafrotherdon



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-11-17
Updated: 2004-11-17
Packaged: 2017-10-11 23:37:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/118405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheafrotherdon/pseuds/sheafrotherdon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sirius is smashed in the head with a Bludger.  Gold sparkly bits ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Splendid Work of Bludgers

Sprawled loose-limbed at the edge of the Quidditch pitch, Sirius smiled beatifically up into Remus's face. "God but I love the brussel sprout," he said with fervor.

Remus arched a patient eyebrow, fingers skimming over Sirius's skull. "Can the lowly brussel sprout know greater joy?" he asked wryly, examining the cut still bleeding above Sirius's ear. "I feel certain the carrots will go on strike out of sheer heartbreak."

"Carrots," sniggered Sirius. "Paaaaarsnips."

Remus shot James a telling look as the latter snorted with muffled laughter, great handfuls of his Quidditch robes stuffed in his mouth to dull the sound. "You're not helping."

"Fawg 'd bn nff helg awgredd," offered James.

"That you have," Remus nodded, agreeably. "Well, Padfoot my friend, I believe you're going to live."

Sirius grinned. "Yeah!" he shouted. There was a significant pause before, in a very small voice, he offered a supplementary "Ouch?"

Remus tried hard not to think about what that small voice did to his spleen or the back of his neck, or his left kneecap for that matter, and slipped his hand under Sirius's elbow. "You're concussed. We need to go see Madam Pomfrey."

Sirius brought his head very close. "James loves her," he said as he struggled to his feet.

"Hey!" James spluttered the fabric of his robes back to its proper place. "Do not. Do _not_."

Remus eyed them both balefully. "I don't even want to _think_ about the degenerate uses you've imagined for bandages," he said with a sigh.

James, flustered, stooped to pick up Sirius's broomstick. "I'll take care of this," he said, as if his cheeks weren't burning a shade of fuchsia previously only seen in the plumage of exotic birds. "And I should probably catch those . . . " He jerked a thumb over his shoulder to where two bludgers still soared with ferocious intent above the pitch. The snitch was nowhere to be seen.

"James," said Sirius fondly, swaying away from Remus's grasp, then back again. "Remember the sprouts, man. Remember the _sprouts_."

"He's insane," said James to Remus as he threw one leg over his broomstick.

"Granted. But that was before he was hit by a Bludger. We may now have a completely sane Black on our hands."

"God help us." James grinned, kicking off in search of the missing Snitch.

Remus noticed that Sirius was tunelessly humming something that might, in a less tortured musical life, have been "Wizards Do It With Their Wands." He tugged on Sirius's arm. "Come on," he said, starting to walk.

Sirius gave it his best effort, but the results were uneven at best. "I think getting hit might have made my feet grow," he offered, thoughtfully.

"Hmmm?"

"They seem a bit less . . . _mine_ than usual."

Remus tried desperately not to smile. "I think that's just the effect of a six-pound magical head injury," he offered.

"Well yeah . . . " Sirius stopped for a second, gazing with concentration at his feet. "But I really do think they're bigger, y'know. And . . ." He tilted his head. "A tiny bit purple around the edges." He looked up at Remus, face splitting into an irascible grin. "But then _you're_ purple round the edges too." He turned toward the distant castle. " _Everything's_ purple round the edges. Fuck, that's so cool."

Remus looked around for some source of help – another student, a teacher, a sheet of parchment with a spell for levitating useless buggers of boyfriends, a handy Thestral with a medi-carriage. "Sirius, we really should keep moving."

Sirius pulled his gaze back from Hogwart's edifice. "You're _lovely_ ," he said on a sigh.

"And a bit purple around the edges," put in Remus, urging Sirius forward. One step. Two.

"Purple and twinkly gold."

"Oh you big girl's blouse." Three steps. Four, five, six.

"Twinkly gold and smelling like bacon."

"Bacon?"

"Yeah," said Sirius, caught up in the moment. "A nice bit of bacon I can sink my teeth into. Or a thick wedge of chocolate cake." He gasped and looked at Remus, eyes wide. " _A brussel sprout_." The words were tinged with awe.

Remus thought he might weep at that point, caught between hysterics and actual pain. "You're comparing me to a small, green, pungent vegetable?"

"S'right. _My_ small, green, pungent vegetable." Sirius made a move that was no doubt intended to be a caress, a fond touch of fingertips to his boyfriend's jaw. Instead his hand collided with Remus's nose and it became hard to sort out who yelped at what octave, whose elbow collided with whose hip, whose hands flew out to fend off which fall. In the end Remus lay, breathless, nose bloodied, squashed beneath his startled boyfriend who was still seeing in purple.

"You godforsaken LUMP," moaned Remus, pitching Sirius to one side and covering his face with a hand.

Sirius propped himself up on an elbow. "Sorry."

Remus let his hand fall away, exhausted. "This is not going down in history as one of our better days," he eventually observed.

"Didn't TRY to get hit."

"Could've stayed in the Tower, done your damn _homework_."

"Didn't MAKE you come with us, did we?"

"I'm supposed to resist the prospect of your arse on a broomstick?"

"Didn't . . ." He paused. "You like my arse on a broomstick?"

"Nearly KILLED myself running down from the stands," continued Remus, by now unstoppable. "My heart bloody _stopped_ you great oaf, bloody _stopped_ when you fell."

"You like my arse?"

"And James was just laughing, and who can blame him? Who _hasn't_ wanted to see you hit in the head at some point or another?"

"But back to my arse."

"But me?" Remus skated the back of his hand under his nose, carelessly smearing blood over his cheek. "I had this split second of considering that you might really be hurt, might be knocked out of what little sense you had, maybe even _worse_ , and now on top of that I get thumped in the nose for my trouble, and _we're going to miss dinner_ and . . . and . . ." He began to laugh. "And they were serving brussel sprouts."

Sirius watched, bemused, as Remus curled into a ball against the damp grass, his laughter increasingly hysterical, eyes squeezed shut, tears mixing with blood on his face, hands clasped feverishly to his belly. "Remus?"

"Sprouts!" Remus gasped, before dissolving into fresh mirth. "Sprouts!" he mouthed, as all sound left him.

Sirius lay back against the grass, head throbbing, not at all sure he possessed the faculties to deal with whatever was going on beside him -- some whirling frenzy of wolfish overtaxation. "Remus?"

Remus whimpered, laughter dying in uneven bursts. "Hmmm?" he managed, a chuckle chasing on its heels.

"Did your heart really stop?"

Remus rolled onto his side, passing his other hand beneath his nose. He propped his head up and eyed Sirius with resigned affection. "I think for a moment it did," he said with a wry smile.

"I'm sorry 'bout that," whispered Sirius.

"Oh, Padfoot." Remus smiled again, wistfully. "It's OK. I'd rather I had . . . "

But the words were lost as Sirius reached up and kissed him. It wasn't the best kiss they'd shared. Sirius was slow at learning the difference between dedication and enthusiasm – a particularly troublesome trait when kissing someone with an injured nose. But it was warm and heartfelt, however brief, and caused Remus's spleen, his kneecap, and the skin at the back of his neck to vibrate with curious happiness, just as it should.

Sirius pulled away, looking even more dazed than was usual with concussion. "Your gold sparkly bits are all flashing and shit now," he said, happily.

Remus snorted with laughter, scrambling to his feet before pulling his boyfriend with him. "Hospital wing now," he suggested, dragging Sirius and his big feet with purple edges with him. "Gold sparkly bits and perhaps even flashing later."


End file.
